


A Fairy Queen

by Capucine



Category: Lanval - Marie de France, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-09
Updated: 2015-04-14
Packaged: 2018-01-24 02:01:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1587533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Capucine/pseuds/Capucine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint Barton is just a poor, neglected knight in King Arthur's court. When he meets Natasha, queen of her own otherworldly court, what danger will there be for him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on an Avengers/Old English Literature kick, so enjoy!

Clint didn't know what he could be expected to do. He had served King Arthur faithfully for a long time, yet never did his king gift him with anything. And he wouldn't complain, typically speaking, but his clothes were being worn ragged, and his room was cramped and small. He served loyally, yet he was ignored.

Forget the king, he decided. Forget that he was forgotten as a needle that's fallen down the cracks in the floor. He rode, the summer breeze playing with his hair, and his old horse gently stepping along. He could almost forget his misfortune in the beauty that was the outdoors; yes, there were bugs and other creepy-crawlies, but it was better than seeing the thick gold rings and bracelets that the other knights wore proudly.

He stopped, got off his horse, allowing her to graze. He laid his bow across his lap, and leaned against a tree; he could hear the trickle of a stream none too far away. The bow was not considered a typical knightly weapon, but he could use a sword almost as well anyhow, and the bow was like an extension of himself. He never missed, not ever. Though of course, he had missed the mark with his king. Perhaps he wasn't memorable enough; perhaps the king just didn't like him.

In any case, it was easier to close his eyes and forget.

It was only moments later, it felt like, that something tickled his nose.

His eyes snapped open, and he threw himself forward, ready to fight. He was startled to see it was a woman, her long sleeve dangled forward as though teasing his nose. She snorted at the sight of him, saying, "That was a slow reaction time. You'd be dead if I were your enemy."

He flushed, shrugging. "Then it's a good thing you're not my enemy."

She had red hair, down her back, and she wore a dress with slits up the sides. She showed more skin than most of the queen's ladies, and it was all pale. She looked at him, raising an eyebrow. "You assume too quickly that that means I am a friend."

"I wouldn't assume that," Clint said, putting his bow over his shoulder. He could see his horse grazing, as nonplussed about the whole situation as one would expect an almost stone-blind mare to be.

"What's your name, knight?" she said, standing about three feet back from him now.

"Clint Barton. Yours?" Clint should have been more courteous; it was the way of court, to flatter and play at being in love. But there was something about this woman that made him change his mind about presenting court manners, even though, with her rich garb, she clearly belonged in a court.

"Natasha Romanov. You may know me, or you may not; I am the queen of these woods." She came closer, saying, "You know how to shoot that?"

In response, Clint fired an arrow into a tree without looking. It landed dead square in a knot.

She seemed impressed, holding her hands out for the bow and an arrow. Clint handed them to her, and she fired a shot into the tree as well, right next to his.

"You have good aim, Clint," she murmured, handing him back his bow.

He stared a moment, utterly impressed. She seemed to be almost a warrior in her own right; he could see the toned quality of her body even with the small amount that was shown (in comparison to being naked). "You must be the only woman who can fire a shot like that," he said finally, respect clear in his tone.

She kissed him then. Just kissed him.

Things devolved after that, pleasurably.


	2. Chapter 2

Clint had lain in Natasha’s tent for some time after that. She’d turned out to have it some distance away; it looked like it was made of gold cloth, whispy in the breeze and yet still solid enough to provide a little bit of shade.

Natasha, naked and completely comfortable with it, though half-covered with a flimsy silky blanket, said softly, “You’re different from other men, Clint Barton.”

“And you’re different from other women,” he said, feeling the blanket stick to his bare hips. He was sitting up now, taking in Natasha’s beautiful red hair and the way she looked at him like a predator. Not in the way that she wanted to devour him, but like a great hunter that has been satisfied; she had already taken in every inch of his body and found him exactly what she was looking for.

Natasha smiled at that. “You wouldn’t believe how much.”

It was intriguing; Natasha was mysterious, and that was part of what drew him to her. Clint sighed, not wanting to leave, but feeling like maybe someone would worry about him if he didn’t make it back.

He stood, starting to put back on his clothes.

“You’re a knight of King Arthur’s court, aren’t you?” Natasha said, watching him from a sitting position on the soft cushion that had been their place.

“I am. I am not one of the great knights, no Lancelot or Gawain; King Arthur forgets I exist,” Clint sighed, thinking on how he must have done something wrong to be treated in the way he was. He was down to his last bits of money, and Arthur hadn’t given him the slightest thing in years.

At this, Natasha said, “Well, you don’t have to worry anymore; I am a Queen, and I will be your benefactor.”

Clint stared a moment, and then his face cracked into a smile. “Thank you, milady.” He didn’t add that it meant a whole lot that she would take him on. He didn’t say that he was eternally in her debt.

But she knew, if the look in her eyes was anything to go by. She slipped back on her dress, hips showing out the sides, and she said, “You’d better get going, Clint.”

He nodded, “Yes, milady.”

“You may call me Natasha. And Clint?” Natasha’s face was serious.

“Yes, Natasha?” Clint asked, still entranced by her voice.

“Don’t tell anyone of this, or you will never see me again,” Natasha said, and she pressed one more kiss to his neck. 

“Yes, I promise,” Clint said, thinking this was a small price to pay to be with Natasha. He kissed her back, on both cheeks, and she smiled at the innocence of the affection.

“Go, but come back soon. Here, this is for you,” she said, putting a pouch of gold coins and a gold ring in his hand.

Clint was reluctant to go, but he went. And when he got back, he bought a round of ale at the tavern for his friends.

No one thought to ask where the wealth had come from, and he didn’t tell them. It was a merry night, with much drinking, but still, the secret of Queen Natasha didn’t leave his lips.

When he went to bed, all he could think of was the beautiful queen, and he sighed happily.

He didn’t know that his boom in popularity would attract attention of a forbidden kind.


	3. Chapter 3

Clint saw Natasha every two days after that, and every time, even when he said he was well cared for and needed nothing, she tucked more riches into his hands. 

He was grateful, but to him, the true wealth was in being able to call the Queen his lover. They would spend the nights together, and she would still be there in the morning, gems like dew glittering in her hair as she tucked garments as radiant as the sun about her bare body.

She didn’t dress like other women, and she didn’t act like them either. She gave him a bow of incomparable value, of a wood he didn’t recognize and with an amazing range.

But this change didn’t go unnoticed; going from moth-bitten clothes to even just what qualified for simple, well-made garments in court attracted someone’s eye.

He was walking down a corridor when a young maid stopped him. “Sir Clint, the Queen wishes to see you in her chambers.”

Maybe he was a bit stupid, or maybe he was so blindly in love he didn’t notice what this could mean. He simply nodded, and went on his way to the Queen’s quarters. Queen Guinevere was the wife of his former benefactor, King Arthur, the man he still served. He had to show her respect, and this generally included coming when requested.

He entered her chambers. 

Queen Guinevere stood before him, just dismissing her maids. She was wearing a long gown, green in color. It seemed dull compared to the shimmering of Queen Natasha’s garments, and her beauty, though renowned, seemed to pale in comparison to his memories of Natasha’s beautiful blue eyes and silky red hair.

“Good evening, milady,” Clint said, hoping to be on his way soon. He expected to meet Natasha in a little while.

But Queen Guinevere came up to him, too intimately close, hand on his cheek. “Sir Clint Barton,” she said, “I would take you as a lover.”

Shock went through him, like cold bathwater. He stared for a moment, but didn’t dare remove her hand. “Milady, I wouldn’t dishonor King Arthur like that. You’re his wife, and I owe him respect.”

“King Arthur didn’t give you those gifts,” Guinevere insisted, hand trailing lower.

“I… Milady, I can’t stay. I can’t do injustice to King Arthur,” Clint said, backing away a bit.

She stepped to follow him. “How can you turn me down? I am the most beautiful woman of this court. Don’t tell me you have a taste for boys?”

Clint wasn’t often one to let his anger take control, but it shot through him like an arrow. “No, no I do not! I am in love with a woman far more beautiful than you; the sun outshines the moon in the same way her beauty outshines yours! I would never betray her!”

That was when it hit him like cold ice. He had just betrayed her, in revealing their relationship. He felt like the breath had been taken out of him, and didn’t even feel Guinevere slapping him.

“Guards! Guards! This wretch has insulted your Queen! Take him to the dungeons!”

He didn’t even fight back as he was dragged there. He couldn’t even raise his head, the great weight of what he’d done pulling it down.

He would never see his love again.


	4. Chapter 4

She would not come. Natasha would not come, not after he'd told them of her.

Clint's head hung, even as Arthur offered a salvation: Should his lover, Natasha, be more beautiful than Queen Guinevere, he would be released with the King's blessing. If not, or if she didn't show, he would be hung on the morrow.

He sat in the court, bemoaning his choice. Why had he let it slip? Couldn't he had gotten Guinevere to leave him alone without mentioning Natasha? True, preferring boys was punishable by death, but there had to have been something he could have said otherwise.

Or, he could have lied and said he loved a maid who was not Natasha. But when anger took over, his righteous anger at the accusations so foul, his mouth sometimes had a mind of its own.

Clint's head was in his hands, so he didn't notice at first the mumblings of the outdoor court.

“Sir Clint! Surely, one of these girls is your lover!”

He looked up, sure it wasn't-- and it wasn't. Two girls, both with shimmering gold hair, long black eyelashes, and full figures, rode in on beautiful, healthy horses, but they were not Natasha.

He shook his head. “She will not come. I have betrayed her.”

Again, as he sat there, the courtiers and judges said again, “Look! One of these beautiful girls must be your lover, they are finer than the first two!”

And he looked up. Brunettes rode the beautiful horses this time, hair a glossy sheet down their backs and blue eyes that sparkled like spring water. But they were not Natasha.

“She won't come,” he insisted, “That's not her.”

It was only ten minutes later that the crowd oohed and ahed, and they said, sure of themselves now, “One of these must be Sir Clint's lover; they are the most beautiful women ever seen!”

But they were onyx-haired, with wise, deep brown eyes and plump figures. They were still not Natasha.

“I told you,” Clint said, getting sick of being given hope and losing it again, “She won't come. You may as well hang me now.”

And so they led him onto the scaffold, looped the hanging noose around his neck.

“Sir Clint,” King Arthur said, “Is there anything you would like to say before your death?”

Perhaps he wanted him to apologize to the Queen Guinevere. But it would not happen; Clint would take his relative dignity to his death. “I only have one regret, and it is not obeying my lover's one request. She is the most beautiful woman in the land, if not in all of history, and I will die with her image on my eyelids.”

King Arthur looked regretful then, but Clint knew he would not stop the execution. He raised his hand, and soon, all too soon, the executioner would drop the floor out from under Clint and his neck would snap.

Then, a gasp went through the crowd.

Clint looked, and his heart overflowed as his eyes widened.

There was Natasha, red hair shimmering in the light, bedecked with jewels the likes of which none had ever seen; from just below her breasts to her hips were gaps in her glimmering dress, and the crown on her head shone brighter gold than anything on King Arthur.

“Natasha,” Clint breathed, unable to think beyond, _She returned for me, she has returned!_

“She is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen,” a judge murmured, and soon was joined by his fellows. “We find Sir Clint innocent; he truly does love a woman more beautiful than Queen Guinevere!”

Queen Guinevere tossed her head in scorn, but said nothing.

Natasha ascended the scaffold, and took the noose off his neck, planting a tender kiss there. “Come with me, Clint.”

No one stopped them as they descended, and he climbed upon her white horse, behind her. He held tight, knowing how close he'd come to both death and losing her forever.

“You will not see this man again,” Natasha said, as her attendants, the beautiful girls from before, gathered around them. “But you will wish you had been him.”

And they rode off to the fairyland, Avalon, where Clint stayed in perpetual youth with his lover, the fairy Queen Natasha.

Never did he want for anything again.


End file.
